I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...
Saturday, November 16, 2024
DEAR MIKE TYSON
Friday, October 18, 2024
DRIBBLE
I haven’t been able to complete a single thought in weeks. There’s been so much running through my head that it’s been next to impossible to sort through it. I’ll simply say the devil continues to stay busy. But you know how I do. The bits and pieces become dribble and dribble eventually becomes a post. So here goes.
- If you are now out here doing interviews and posting about Sean “P-Diddy” Combs and what you saw or what you knew, then you deserve to be in the same cell with him. If you were witness to his alleged depravity and you did absolutely nothing to protect or help his victims when it was happening, then you, too, should rot in hell. You giving up information now, doesn’t make you a hero. It only proves how despicable you truly are.
- Historically, women have been saving the world since the beginning of time. There are those who don’t know that because the men who mucked things up have taken extreme measures to keep that history from the world. It makes them look bad and they can’t have that. Men muck things up and women have to step in to save the day. But we’re tired. There’s never any appreciation for our efforts. And many don’t really deserve us. But we never stop thinking about the children, and their future and what will happen to them if we don’t step in to clean up the mess. So, we stay in the fray, and we fight for what’s right. Then we watch as some pale-faced, limp-dick, lily-livered man erases our efforts from the history books. But that too, shall soon change. Because we are truly fed up with limp-dick men with no balls and no backbone.
- If you support and defend a man with no moral fiber. A man who has continually proven himself to be a habitual liar. A man who lacks character and compassion; then don’t be surprised when the rest of us look at you cross-eyed and question your own moral integrity. If you refuse to condemn the bad behavior then we refuse to give you a pass. So, miss me with your platitudes and excuses. You are no better than he is. In fact, you are probably worse.
- I still have no tolerance for cold weather. Heat is bliss. Cold is simply cruel.
- Men make war a pissing contest. It's dick waving to see whose is bigger. Every thing is tit for tat. They never consider the consequences or care who will suffer most. Women and children are expendable, even a liability if they get in the way. They are the epitome of Little Dick Syndrome, needing to prove their worth because they are lacking in all other aspects of their small worlds. But it's war. With big, deadly toys and even deadlier consequences. Innocent people die for no reason other than ego and revenge. Men waging war need to be bitch slapped.
- Life has a funny way of interfering with your plans. It slides itself into your calendar and wreaks havoc on otherwise stable schedules. Life has a mind of its own and wields control when we least expect. It fathoms itself to be quite the comedian. But there’s no humor in its antics. Life is unstable and in need of therapy.
Monday, September 02, 2024
GOOD PEOPLE
Tye made such an impression that I knew I would write a blog about him before I got out the door. That’s saying a lot since I haven’t blogged in months. Well, actually a whole year! Life has had me in a head lock since my father died and Mom became my responsibility. But being able to come up for air and write about someone that moved my spirit has been invigorating.
Tye is good people and it’s not often you run into someone so genuine, with such an honest, open spirit. He’s good people and good people are far and few these days. I see a bright future ahead for him. His will be a legacy of his own making and he’s already forged a foundation that exemplifies his upbringing, his talent, and his love for self, life, and family.
Are you thinking about purchasing a new home? Have a house you need to sell? Then Tye Williams is the agent for you. Try Tye for your home needs and BUY!!
Tye Williams
Broker
919-949-9359
tye.williams@nestrealty.com
https://nestrealty.com/tyewilliams
Saturday, July 22, 2023
WHEN SHE'S DEAD...
You can
take that painting down when I die. Until then, leave it. When I die you can
move those chairs, until then, let them stay. You can clear away that stuff
when I’m dead. Just leave it for now. I don't want to take that trip but you can go when I'm dead. Don’t move these things here. You can
toss them all into the trash when I’m gone.
God
understands so I don’t feel but so bad for the thoughts that sometimes run
through my head. I’m especially mindful though not to say them out loud. But I
cannot make her understand that we are still here, and our choices should not
be dependent on what a dead man once wanted for himself. But celebrating the here
and now is suddenly foreign to her.
When my
father died, she too stopped living. It has taken the patience of Job to keep
her pushing forward with both feet. Most times, I have had to drag her along
kicking and screaming. Change terrifies her and she sees death as the only
answer to her fears. She’d been married to him longer than I’ve been alive, and
his world was all she’d ever known. For sixty-plus years her entire existence had
revolved around him, and now she feels lost with him not here. That makes me so
sad.
I had hoped
she would want more in however long she has left. That she would finally step
out of the shadows and shine. She had once been a vibrant personality. She
could slay dragons, run marathons, and take the world by storm with a simple
dance step or two. That mother had no fear of anything. That mother lived every
day for her next adventure. That mother held tightly to family and friends. People
meant more to her than things. We lost my mother when my father died. That
woman, is the one I miss even more than not having my father here.
Thursday, February 16, 2023
PATIENCE...
My beloved father was recently referred to hospice. So we brought him home to die. No one prepares you for the waiting. They generalize the expectations because everyone’s experience in hospice is different. But no one tells you that waking every morning, wondering if today will be your loved one’s last day, is emotionally and physically debilitating. They don't tell you that sleep is difficult because you're afraid to not be there when they need you.
Patience has never been one of my virtues. Rushing through
those things I can control is my norm. But no one wants to rush death. And
waiting for it, knowing it will inevitably invade your happy place but not knowing
exactly when, is brutal. Since the decision was made, each day has gotten
harder. Daddy’s needs change with each passing hour. The caregiver responsibilities
must sometimes change on a dime. And patience is often the divide between
success and failure when you must wait, uncertain what will come, and what you
must rise up to meet.
His hospice care team have been phenomenal. Their support
and guidance have allowed us the grace to do this. Friends have circled around, support unexpected and appreciated. Family have stood strong,
despite the inevitable drama that comes with fear and sadness and the lack of
patience for bullshit usually ignored. Gratefully, petty disputes over rice and plastic cups only
last as long as the timer for his next dose of pain meds to be dispensed, or
the tears that come with the memories.
I cherish the memories. Not just those well in the past, but
those made as family and friends have said their goodbyes. Memories wrapped in laughter that rattles the walls of our home, or watered by the mist of ugly tears. Losing myself in the
memories has kept me standing. They have helped me with the waiting. I’m learning the fine art of patience. I just hate how the lesson is being taught.
Thursday, November 17, 2022
THE TRUTH...
The truth never had a chance here.
Let me say that again.
The truth never had a chance here.
That statement, made by attorney Ralph E. Fernandez, about
the death of 40-year-old Tamla Horsford, a black Forsyth County woman and
mother of six who died during a largely all-white, adult slumber party in 2018,
has always felt like a sliver of glass shoved into my heart.
Investigators claim Horsford fell about fourteen feet from
the back porch of the home and died on impact. Her death was classified as an
accident. Others who reviewed the case state her injuries were “consistent”
with being in a physical struggle. Horsford’s case was closed, no charges were
ever filed, and no one has ever been held accountable for her death.
The truth never had a chance here.
The truth never had a chance here.
Most recently, 25-year-old Shanquella Robinson of Charlotte,
NC traveled to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with friends to celebrate her bestie’s
birthday. She was later found unconscious in her room and pronounced dead. Those
friends claimed she died of alcohol poisoning. Days later a video clip surfaced
showing those same friends beating Shanquella senseless and filming the assault
just hours before her death. The autopsy report showed that Shanquella died from
a severe spinal cord injury and broken neck. At this time, none of the friends
who she went on the trip with are facing charges. And not one has been forthcoming
or honest about what happened.
The truth doesn’t have a chance here. Or so some would want us to believe.
These are not stories that make national headlines. Missing white women syndrome is in full effect when it comes to the media attention on a murdered black mother, an 8-year-old black child viciously assaulted, and a beautiful black girl with ugly friends who showed themselves to be evil enemies. Were these stories to receive the same media attention as that of Gabby Petito, an American woman murdered by her boyfriend, maybe justice would be served. Maybe there would be earnest investigations into their cases and maybe with enough eyes questioning the facts, the truth would have more than a chance.
How did we get to this place? Where law enforcement will circumvent the truth to save face, protect the guilty, or simply show their disdain and lack of concern and compassion. When did social media clout become more important than reverence for human life? What has happened to our humanity?
These three cases, and others, haunt me. I've lost sleep pondering what I could possibly do to help. I don't know any of the families but I wish I could wrap them in a hug and let them know I care. I want to be there for them and I am not the only one. Their pain is my pain. It is our pain. Their frustration is our frustration. But for the grace of God, it could be me, or my child, or my daughter. Our beautiful black souls deserve so much more than being so easily dismissed.
Wednesday, August 31, 2022
DRIBBLINGS...
I’ve decided that I need to revive my random thoughts segment. There’s so much going on and sometimes just a random thought about a subject is fitting. Y’all might remember how this works. Every so often a thought will cross my mind but never quite make it into a full-blown post. I call them DRIBBLINGS, just haphazard, trivial stuff that passes through my thoughts. And so, I DRIBBLE!
A father in Louisville boarded a public-school bus to
verbally assault a child. (Video HERE.) He says it was out of character for
him, but that his daughter has been bullied and because the school has taken no
action, he’d been pushed to his limits when allegedly his daughter was smacked
by another little girl. NO! In fact, HELL NO! I’m not buying that bullshit. He
showed his true colors. No grown ass man would even consider calling a child a bitch
and think that’s okay. No father of a daughter would be okay doing this
unless he has absolutely no respect for women in general. He called that little
girl out of her name with his whole chest, and I shudder to think what he
would have done had the bus driver not been holding him back. The video showed his
daughter trying to climb over the seat to continue to escalate the problem. Personally,
I didn’t get victim vibes, unless she got a shot of courage because daddy was
there. Clearly though, he’s not the role model any little girl needs to fully
understand her self-worth as she journeys to womanhood. Either way, he was
wrong, and no one should be okay with his behavior.
Words are my superpower. Point of view is my kryptonite.
At the beginning of his quest for the presidency, Donald
Trump stated he could walk down 5th Avenue and shoot someone, and no
one would care. A lot has happened since then that would seem to validate that
statement. I can’t help but wonder what, if anything, would make the GOP pull
their support of this one man and refocus on the needs of their constituents
and the American people? Or are they, as an entire entity of political power
determined to go down in flames if he leads them straight to hell?
My cognitive empathy has become a liability. I cry at
commercials. Life can become overwhelming too quickly. My emotional empathy is
on overload, fueling somatic empathy that has my entire body reeling. To shut
it down, I need to shut it off. If I shut off my emotions, I can’t write. And I
need to write. I feel like I’m caught between the proverbial rock and a hard
place.
Old people are determined to take their dirt to their
graves. The deeds done in their youth could potentially come back to haunt
generations that follow behind them. But I get it. I’ve done some things I pray
daily will never see the light of day. And I hope if it ever does, I’m long
gone, and my descendants can forgive me. There’s a story here. Maybe, one day,
I’ll let myself write it. Then again, maybe I already have?
DEAR MIKE TYSON
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